


Mcna-Oneshots

by goldenheartprincess



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Death, Eating Disorder, F/F, F/M, Guns, M/M, Multi, Murder, Rape Mentions, SO SORRY, Suicide, but a general rule, etc - Freeform, if you can handle heathers, so like, there's little warnings before each chapter, theres just a bunch of shitty one shots, you can handle these
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenheartprincess/pseuds/goldenheartprincess
Summary: A collection of Heather oneshots by me, @goldenheartprincess on Tumblr. This includes all of my oneshots in an easy to read place.





	1. The Wrinkle: McNamawyer

**Author's Note:**

> I deleted the shitty ones out of this because I grew up and got really embarrassed about writing Kram and shit. I considered deleting the others, just because they're not my best work, but I want them to stay out here so people can see how much I've changed in my writing.  
> Thanks for supporting me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> summary: Once you reach 18, you stop aging. If you’re physically close for a long time with your soulmate, you age. If not, you stay the same. (by @reliquiaen on Tumblr)  
> Warnings: Angst, Drinking (I think), Divorce,

There was nothing like being seventeen. Veronica Sawyer had exactly one year before she’d start to age. Before she’d start to die. Before every moment spent looking in the mirror was to check wrinkles and broken down hairs. To check for cellulite and sagging breasts and all of the seemingly awful things about growing up. There wasn’t anything awful at all, about growing up, because that meant you were in love. However, they terrified her. What if the didn’t know who in her life made her age? What if she didn’t love them? What if they never existed?

Heather McNamara tried not to think about it much. She didn’t want to lose her precious baby face or her incredible metabolism. Not all of her reasons were vain- she just didn’t want to become her mom. Her mom was so preoccupied with her age, spending every second peering into reflective surfaces to check her skin for a sign of love. Heather believed the best form of love on skin was a hickey. She didn’t want her life to revolve around the idea of romantic love. She didn’t want to go home for Thanksgiving dinner and look so old that her father asks who the boy is. She knew it wouldn’t be a boy.

The two girls attended high school together, constantly living in the shadows. They learned to cling onto each other for warmth, avoiding icy stares and cold frigid bitches. They were safety blankets. Veronica was scared of turning 18 and Heather was scared of aging. They were both going to happen someday.

And that day is today.

Veronica shrieks from the bathroom in the apartment that she and her high school best friend rented a few months prior. Her fingers tremble around thin black hair, screeching out the name of her girlfriend.

“I told you, I can’t kill the spiders! Do it yourself!” Heather runs into the room behind her, in a yellow bathrobe clutching a frying pan. The sun sets through the window, filling the room with the light the girls never received before.

“There’s no spiders, Heather!” She turns around to face the love of her life, her golden princess. “It’s better than that.”

“Oh my God, you’re pregnant.” Heather seriously guesses, gasping. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”

Veronica shakes her head. “No, better. I got my first laugh line!”  
“What?” Heather screams, dropping the pan against the linoleum floor. “You’re kidding!”  
“No, it’s on my forehead!” Veronica giggles as to show off her new wrinkle. “Do you know what this means?”

“You’re starting to look like my mother?” Heather raises an eyebrow. She was referencing the time when her mom was still with her dad, but she knew it wasn’t quite the right answer.

“It means I’m in love with you!” Veronica squeals and pulls her girlfriend into a warm kiss, lighting a fire inside them both for the first time in years. 

Heather’s light grows dim within seconds. “A line on your face shouldn’t mean you’re in love. Do you love me because of who I am or because a line appeared and you believe in the universe?” To put it simply, Heather had trouble believing in love. In the whole system. In the universe. Her parents managed to grow apart. The system was flawed. 

Veronica swallows. “You’re right. You’re so, so right. I don’t need a wrinkle to tell me that you are my soulmate, we are meant to be, and I will never, ever love anyone as much as I love you.”

And she never did.


	2. Dead Girl Stumbling: Mcnamawyer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather McNamara drinks too much at Ram's homecoming party, and ends up at Veronica's house, feeling like a dead girl walking.  
> Warnings: Sex mentions, bulimia mention, break in

“She wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts, she’s cheer captain and I wanna date her!” Veronica often spent her Friday nights alone in her room, listening to Taylor Swift and changing the lyrics (most often, the pronouns) to fit her situation. Despite being invited to a Remington party, this night was no different. She knew she was easily replaced by Chandler with any of the other Heathers, so she saw no purpose on leaving the house and getting drunk with boys she didn’t care about. She had a box of graham crackers and her cat, Mewtwo, to keep her company.

Little did she know, more company was on the way.

 binging a few episodes of Friends, a clash echoed outside her window. She slammed down her MacBook, even though Rachel and Ross were just seconds away from getting back together. “Who’s there?” She called out, holding up her cat in defense. Her parents were away at a Pate Convention, so nobody would find her body until it was too late. That is, if a murderer climbed through the window.

However, in this AU, that wasn’t about to happen. Heather McNamara managed to fall into Veronica’s window, after boosting herself up too high on the maple tree. Maple trees were not meant to hold teenage girls, not even cheerleaders. 

“Heather?” Veronica gently dropped her Pokemon-named cat back on the pale blue bedspread. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a party to go to?”

“Shhhhshshshshshshshshhh…” Heather mumbled, flinging her hands around in some sort of tribal dance that might be telling Veronica to shut up. There was a long moment of silence before she continued. “Shshsh. Sorry for breaking your window lock, but-”

“You broke my window lock?” Veronica screeched, as there was nothing in her parent’s budget to a lot for a broken window lock. Especially on the grounds of, a window lock broken by a drunk and possibly horny bisexual.

“Only completely.” Heather shrugged. “But I had to see you. You see, I’ve made a choice. An important choice.” The yellow girl’s words were beyond slurred by now, and she struggled to stand up against the wall. “I’ve decided I must ride you until I break you.”

Veronica’s eyes widened. “Um, what?”

“Like the lock.” Heather giggled uncontrollably. Get it, because the lock was broken? Imagine if Heather rode the lock! That would be funny. Thoughts like these caused her to spiral into hiccups. 

“Heather, are you… drunk?” Veronica dared to ask but needed to know anyway. If the answer was yes, then Veronica wouldn’t be getting laid tonight. She was better than that. 

Heather flared her nostrils and raised her lips into a funny expression like she was smelling something foul. “Pfffft, I’m not drunk. I’m so not drunk. Not drunk. Not. Not not drunk. Yeah, I’m not not drunk. That sounds about right. You’re hot. Heh, hot rhymes with not.”

“Okay, so you’re wasted.” Veronica decided, helping the girl onto the bed. Mewtwo cuddled up to his new friend, earning a grin and soft pets. “What happened? Aren’t you supposed to be at a party right now?”

“Is that tonight?” Heather wrinkled her nose. “I just came from a party! There wouldn’t be two parties at the same time, right? Because I was doing shots at Remington with Heather. But I’m not drunk. Not not drunk.”

“See, that’s the party you were supposed to be at.” Veronica tried to add up the pieces together in her head, but social matters is where her genius brain failed her. “But why are you here?”

“So we can have kinky sex.” Heather answered without skipping a beat. She had this elaborate plan on how to go about this, but she must have left the plan at the party. It was scribbled on a napkin that was most likely stuffed into her bra at some point. Right! Some junior wrote his number now and tucked it into her chest. But then she spilled the salt on it and lost it under Mount Salt. It was really funny at the time and remembering it resulted in another fit of giggles. “Mount Salt!”

Veronica wasn’t even going to ask. “We’re not going to have kinky sex, Heather. Not even any sex at all. Do you understand why?”

“Because you like penis?” Heather raised an eyebrow, hoping for the best. The best was yet to come for the daffodil girl.

The bluebell snorted. “Funny. No, actually, because you’re drunk. And that’s not okay. But how about you watch Friends with me? Phoebe just found out her parents were in a polygamous relationship and her birth mom is still alive.”

“I was in a polygamous relationship once.” Heather pondered. “But three Heathers in bed together made for really bad communication. Especially because I’m not the one with the choking kink.”

“I’m going to assume that’s Heather Duke for completely offensive reasons.” Veronica chuckled. “So how about it? Friends and cuddles? Or even without the cuddles?”

“Fine, but one condition!” Heather agreed. She was sneaky and devious, which would make her a great lawyer. Ironic, right? “You have to kiss me!”

Veronica paused. That wasn’t immorally wrong, right? If it was just a little kiss, it wouldn’t make her guilty of anything. She leaned over, across the fat calico, and gave the cheerleader a graceful peck on her pale, soft lips. Heather’s hands found their way around Veronica’s face, holding it in place for a moment. Just long enough to remember the moment while it was happening, since Heather wouldn’t tomorrow.

Veronica just hoped Heather would feel the same way tomorrow.


	3. Rumor Has It: Chansaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After becoming an honorary Heather, Veronica asks the girls about which rumors of Westerburg about them are true.

“Shut up, Heather!” Chandler snapped at the green girl who was supposed to be her best friend. As if Duke didn’t spend her Saturday nights staying just sober enough to avoid a hangover so she’d make it to church in the morning to pray for her ‘friend’s’ death. It’d come soon enough. “At least mine are real!”

“Huh, and I thought that was just a rumor.” Veronica shot back, learning quickly how to participate in the Heathers’ witty banter. “What else have I heard is true?”

“Heather has a teddy bear named Frederick the Third.” Duke chuckled, referring to the lemon colored girl in the corner who was flipping through classic French literature from Veronica’s bookshelf. 

“I told you that in confidence!” She whined. “This Javert guy seems like a dick, Veronica.”

Veronica laughed. “He just has morals, that’s all.”

“Unlike some people.” Chandler’s voice was high and mighty, just like herself. The shade landed itself over Duke, like a rain cloud. “Have you heard the rumor about Heather’s little park-escapade with Kurt and Ram?”

Veronica swallowed. Of course she had. Kurt, Ram, and Duke supposedly got caught sleeping naked in a sleeping bag. The rest of the school pieced together the rest of the story. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Heather…” Duke’s voice was low and menacing. She was a spider- small enough to go unnoticed, but threatening enough to take you down. 

Chandler bit her tongue with a teasing grin. “It’s not true! I’m just messing with you. That was Heather! The story got lost in translation.”

“Heather!” McNamara screeched. “That’s not what happened!”  
“We don’t judge you, Heather.” Chandler insisted. “At least, not heavily. Most of our clever insults about that day went right down the toilet. Like Heather’s lunch.”

Veronica felt her stomach flip flop. There was something cruel in her joke, but she couldn’t tell what it was. This didn’t stop all of the girls from giggling and tittering away, even if Duke scowled behind Chandler’s back. “What about you, Chandler? You got a rumor to explain?”

“I got a juicy one!” McNamara volunteered. “I mean, this is sort of Duke too, but there was a really big rumor that you two went to second base at a party to impress a bunch of boys! I should know- I spread it!”  
Chandler’s cheeks turned the same shade as her lipgloss, her car, and everything else she owned. She straightened her posture and returned to Veronica’s bedroom mirror to apply mascara. “Please. As if we have to try to impress boys. They’re boys.” That was the real secret behind the rumor- and the reason McNamara was heavily hazed after it passed around.

See, Chandler was smart as hell. She knew that behind every rumor, there was a shred of truth. McNamara woke up in a sleeping bag with Kurt with no memory of the night before. Chandler and Duke made out at a party because Chandler forgot there was a crowd of boys around and just wanted to kiss a pretty girl.

Duke was never thrilled with the situation. She was drunk on power and tequila, and couldn’t help but smash her lips against the queen bee’s. Maybe this would raise her higher than McNamara for once. Maybe she could gain equal standing with Chandler. Maybe she would be okay. “As if you want to impress boys.” Duke smirked, implying exactly the idea that would make Chandler crucify her after Veronica left. She couldn’t risk looking like a fool in front of her new prey.

“Shut up, Heather!” Chandler rolled her eyes and tried not to look too bothered.

Meanwhile, the entire situation utterly amused Veronica. “You know, Heather,” She said in an attempt to make the red girl feel better. “I’ve made out with a girl too. I think we all have.”

Chandler raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Really? Who was it, Betty Finn? Martha Dunnstock?”

Those were the only two girls in Veronica’s life, up until three weeks before. She took a step towards the blonde, imagining how soft Chandler’s locks would be tightly wound around her fingers. “Nope.” Veronica swallowed, heart threatening to pound out of her chest. “It was Heather.”

And with just enough courage to hold her together, Veronica’s hands slipped just above Chandler’s waist and pulled her in for a sweet kiss. Their lips perfectly intertwined to the rhythm of shut eyes. After a long enough moment to make the queen beg for more, Veronica pushed her aside and went to grab her jacket. The green and the yellow sat gaping, unaware what to do with the new process.

Chandler stood awestruck. It was a dream come true- a girl to kiss that didn’t share her name. That wasn’t afraid of her. “Hey, wait!” She called down the bannister as Veronica’s feet echoed down the stairs. She was a dead girl walking and on the getaway from the scarlet girl before she became a demon. “Veronica!” Chandler chased her down the stairs as Duke and McNamara eagerly watched from the top. Damn it- the girl in midnight blue ran like she was Cinderella and it was midnight. “Get back here and do that again, pillowcase!”  
Veronica spun around on her heels, gazing up at the blonde goddess. “Huh. How very.”


	4. Black, Green, and the Demon Queen: JDuke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively title: Dean, Green, and the Queen  
> JDuke is another crackship rarepair between JD and Heather Duke. I actually sort of love it???  
> Moviebased.  
> What if Heather Duke was the one to ask Jason the lunchtime poll question? What if she was the one standing in Heather Chandler's kitchen holding a mug of drain cleaner?   
> (normal Heathers trigger warnings but also eating disorders)

“That stuff’ll kill her.” Duke smirked, rolling her eyes at the boy in the trenchcoat who wanted to play with fire. “What do you think about orange juice and coke? What’s the upchuck factor on that?”

“Come on, I say we go with big blue here!” Jason shook a small glass with an icy blue chemical inside. Blue reminded Duke of the threat to her life and reputation. Wouldn’t it just be so very if blue was the threat that earned her a better life and reputation?

  
She still had colleges to worry about. If, in fact, she did attempt a murder, she’d need it to work. “She’d never drink anything that looked like that.”

Her perhaps boyfriend smirked as he poured the drain cleaner into a mug. “Now she can’t see what she’s drinking. How about that?”

“Give me the cup, jerk.” Duke bit her lower lip, grinning up at the boy. He was insane all right, but she was insane for power. “Heather Chandler is one bitch that deserves to die.”

“Couldn’t agree more, my love.” Jason enclosed the emerald girl in a gentle kiss. “Shall we?”

Duke nodded with a envious glint in her eye that perfectly matched her outfit. The pair made their way up the white carpeted stairs and knocked gently on the door. “Ugh, come in.” A familiar tone whined. The queen of high school sat up when her almost friends entered her scarlet chamber. “Gumby and Jesse James. Anything to say?”

“I’m really sorry for what happened last night, Heather.” Duke apologized with overly honeyed tones. “I didn’t know wearing red was such a-”

“Shut up, Heather!” Chandler spat. “I wasn’t talking to you. I don’t talk to goddamn peasants. I want to know what Bo Diddley thinks he’s doing in my room.”

“You see, I made you a hangover cure.” Jason proudly brandished the mug to the wicked witch of the west, who paused for a moment. 

She snorted softly to herself before asking him, “What the hell makes you think I’m going to drink that? There’s probably drain cleaner in it for all I know.”

Jason and Duke exchanged knowing glances for just a second, wary of Chandler’s constant gaze. “Of course, princess.” He teased, already having figured out ways to manipulate the Heathers. He’d met them all at high schools all across America before. There was nothing knew about their behaviors and he had it down to a science. 

“I’m not a princess.” Chandler grumbled, eyes flicking around the room with uncertain remarks. “You want me to drink your hangover cure or whatever, fine. But I’m no princess.”

“What are you then?” Duke couldn’t help but ask. She had her own words to fill the space. Monster. Demon. Threat.

“I’m a queen.”

But queens often fall. 

Not often, however, do they slam through a glass coffee table onto their plush carpeting screeching “Corn nuts!” through their strained vocal chords as their eyes roll back. Blood dribbled out of her mouth, staining the expensive floor. There was nothing royal or powerful about her now.

“I just killed your best friend.” Jason smiled, hands reaching to pull Duke closer. He was proud of this feat, and planned how to repeat it. After all, Duke had many best friends.

She pouted, green eyes aimed up to meet his. She didn’t care how empty his looked, because it was just like a mirror to her. “And my worst enemy.”

“Same difference.”

She reached up on her toes and kissed him, arms hung lazily around his neck. He was a perfect mix of metallic and sweet, a concoction that she always hungered for. She never knew a boy like him truly existed, let alone within reach. He was a knife coated in syrup and all she wanted was to get her hands dirty.

His tongue explored the inside of her mouth with a newfound curiosity that she awoke. He’d never met a girl with power and anger before. The girls with scores to settle always had no means to do so and the girls with all the power wasted it. Duke was dangerous and she couldn’t be happier that way.

“It’d be wrong to fool around over her body, right?” Jason suggested, thinking of all the ways to dishonor such a cruel figurehead. Chandler stood for every bitch he met across the country.

Duke cackled, pleased to have finally found someone as wicked and devious as herself. “God, I wish. But we have to cover this up. Can’t kill anyone else if we get caught for this one.”

“I love the way you think.” He praised, digging around Chandler’s desk for something to write with. “What should we write? You know, as her ‘suicide note’?”

“Something short.” She suggested. It couldn’t be anything too long, or the forgery would give it away. “How about, ‘life sucks’ or something cynical like that?”

“Think Chandler was cynical?”

“No, I think she was a cunt.”

Jason chuckled. “I couldn’t agree more. ‘Life sucks’ is it.” He scribbled down the words and planted the note in her palm. He pulled a copy of The Bell Jar out of his trenchcoat and placed it on her nightstand, replacing her copy of Catcher in the Rye.

“What do you think people are going to say about her?” Duke wondered aloud. Her biggest fear was that, even in death, Chandler would still be a queen. She would rule from beyond the grave and sentence Duke to a life of purging in Remington bathrooms. “You know, after they hear that she killed herself.”

“I think they’ll come up with some bullshit story to make themselves feel something.” He answered. “Like, that she had a horrible life and everyday was a struggle. That she couldn’t get out of bed for anything other than food, water, and suicide.”

“Do you think they’ll love her?” Duke swallowed her fears and asked the question that held up the wall between herself and maybe loving this boy. She never let herself love, because they always chose red over green. And even then, it wasn’t love. It was a love for breasts and girls who don’t bother saying ‘no’. A love for nights not spent alone and golden hair to pull. A lust at most. Duke believed she wasn’t even worth lust, so why should she be loved?

“W-what?” Jason didn’t know much about love. It was something his dad claimed to feel for the woman who walked into an explosion with a smile on her face. He thought he loved his mom; he had never been the same since her death. That had to count for something. Would the students of Westerburg feel that way about Chandler? That they wouldn’t be the same. No, they’ll move on.

“Do you think that they’ll love her? Worship her, even.”

“Worship and love are different.” Jason knew that much. “But I don’t think it matters because… because I feel so strongly about you. I worship and love you, so why does it matter what they think about a dead girl? She’s a corpse now, Heather. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

That felt almost too good to be true. “Let’s get a slushie.” She suggested with the biggest smile she’d worn in her life. “A big cherry one.”

And she wasn’t going to throw it up this time.

She wasn’t going to give up.


	5. Mommy Issues and the Forgotten: JDuke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (last fic i have to post rn)  
> Requested by an anon who wanted JDuke to play a game of strip croquet. This almost crosses into smut, but I gave up before that happened because I'm the worst at writing smut because I know .2 sexy words. Please leave comments about any of these oneshots and I'll love you forever.

With her faded dress and worn-out converse, Heather Duke did not intend to attend the spring formal. Chandler had chosen out the gowns for the clique to wear, and obviously chose uglier dresses for the lesser girls, as to make herself appear more radiant. Duke rebelled by showing up to the house in her dress from the year before. Chandler bitched her out, which was the last straw, as Duke left the Chandler household in a panicked, angry frenzy. Her old prom dress hung over her frail figure as she entered the local 7/11, starving for something to munch on and to keep down.

“Greetings and salutations.” A mysterious boy near the slushie machine crooned at our heroine, as he crushed the ice with his straw. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Hipster greeting with a fuckboy question in the same breath.” Heather observed aloud. “I’m shocked. What’s a boy like you doing talking to a girl like me?” She spat back, digging through a stack of Slim-Jims.

“A smart girl, eh?” The boy smirked, smiling down into his drink. “And one named Heather, right? Which one are you? The cheerleader or the queen bee? Or, what was the last one?” He grasped at straws for a defining trait of the missing girl.

“The forgotten.” She answered. “What’s it to you, Daddy Issues?”   
“Mommy Issues, mostly.” He confessed, running his tongue along his upper teeth. “What are your issues? What’s your damage?”

“I already told you.” Heather paid for her snack and turned back to the boy. “I’m forgotten. Speaking of which, I forgot your name.”

“You forgot that I never said it, more likely.” He mused. “Jason Dean, or J.D. for short. Can I interest you in a slushie?”

“Too many calories.” She shook her head, considering throwing away her Slim-Jim. “But my house is a five minute walk away and I have a croquet set in the backyard.”

Jason linked his arm around hers as the misfit pair exited the gas station. “Sounds delightful, Miss Duke. Tell me, have you ever played Strip Croquet?”

Her pale cheeks flushed at the thought, barely visible in the moonlight as they walked to her house. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited by the thought. “I can’t say that I have, Mr. Dean. Care to explain?”

“It’s quite easy.” He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping her positive reaction would continue through the night. “Every time that your ball gets hit by someone else’s, you take off one article of clothing.”

She pondered this for a moment. “I’m in. Just one question; how many articles of clothing are you wearing?”

He smiled. “Let’s see; trench coat, two flannels, t-shirt, jeans, two socks, two shoes, and underwear. So that’s ten. You?”

“My dress, underwear and bra, and two sandals. Five.” She narrowed her eyes. This was deeply unfair to her, as she was clearly wearing half as much as he. “How about every time you get hit, you take off two things?”

He shook his head, feigning disappointment with a glittering smile. “I’m afraid you’ve already agreed to the ‘one article’ rule. Now which house is yours?”

“The shitty suburban white one with the red front door.” Duke pointed out, not planning to admit how much she loved the door and the picket fence surrounding the house. She unlocked the gate, allowing Jason to enter first. “Welcome to my shitty suburban backyard.”  
He admired the freshly mowed lawn and the three lounge chairs on the patio- enough for a family to discuss news and sip lemonades. He loved it. “Wow, it’s shittier in person.” He joked, choosing out a purple croquet mallet. “Green for you, I assume?”  
“Red, please.” She grinned, biting her lower lip as he passed her the scarlet mallet. She ignored the letters “HC” carved into the top. Chandler wasn’t about to ruin another perfect night for Duke. 

Jason cocked his head to the side as he tossed the violet ball into the air and caught it a couple of times. “I’m surprised. And while I would love to hear that tragic backstory sometime, I am far more interested in getting the game on and your elegant gown… off.”

His words sparked Duke’s heart, as it fluttered and pounded in her chest. “Of course. You first?” She grinned, knowing that she had a better chance of knocking his ball first if it was on the ground first.

“Clever.” He said, catching on. “Only because I’m already five points ahead.” Jason shot the girl a smirk as his ball rolled along the dewy grass, dimly lit by the moonlight. “Your turn, Princess.”

“Princess, huh?” Duke smiled, aiming carefully. “What’s my kingdom?” She struck her ball carefully as it nudged against his. “Probably your trench coat, right?”  
“Absolutely not.” He chuckled, pushing a shoe off. With his target only inches away, it was easy to 'convince’ her to take her sandal off. And then his shoe. And then her other sandal. Neither of them thought through the concept of “Strip Croquet” enough to understand that the game of croquet didn’t matter as much as getting the other person to trip. And with the balls always less than a foot apart, it was only a matter of minutes before Duke turned her back to Jason as his fingers found their way around the zipper.

“Wow, it’s chilly out here.” She mused as she stepped out of her dress. Left in only lacy black lingerie, there was no way Jason had any intention of completing their game. He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her into a kiss, gentler than she imagined. He pushed a strand of her hair out of her face as she nibbled his lower lip. Jason moaned softly into her mouth as she fervently pushed off his layers of flannel and the trench coat. He pushed Duke lightly against the base of a giant oak tree as she slid down the bark to reach his jeans. She unbuttoned and unzipped with perfect pressure, her fingers dancing along his crotch.

“This is cheating.” He joked as she pushed down his jeans. “I’m supposed to be wearing more than you.”

She looked up at him, with full green eyes and her cleavage practically bursting out of her bra. “But do you really want to be?” She pouted her lips ever so slightly to entice him.

“No way.” He grinned, pulling her up for a passionate kiss. “All I want is you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ifyoucaughtthenewsiesreferencelmk


End file.
